


The Vagina Conversation

by laydeemayhem



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bourbon - Freeform, Gen, Hot Chocolate, Poor Sam, more bourbon, that specific kind of late night conversation, warning: lots of euphemisms for vaginas, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:00:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24276256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laydeemayhem/pseuds/laydeemayhem
Summary: Darcy hadn’t even started the conversation yet but it was midnight and they’d just spent over 15 hours scienceing and that meant that whatever Darcy had to say was going to be either a) argumentative, b) questionable and/or c) obscene.“Jane, why are there no good sexy euphemisms for vagina?”Oh look, it was d) - all of the above.Written for the May 2020 Glasgow Fanfic Open Mic Night!
Relationships: Jane Foster/Thor, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 46





	The Vagina Conversation

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Cock vs Dick](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5893891) by [neversaydie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neversaydie/pseuds/neversaydie). 



“Jaaane!” 

Jane stopped stirring the pot of hot chocolate that was bubbling away on the stove top and pre-emptively massaged her temples. Darcy hadn’t even started the conversation yet but it was midnight and they’d just spent over 15 hours scienceing and that meant that whatever Darcy had to say was going to be either a) argumentative, b) questionable and/or c) obscene. 

“Jane, why are there no good sexy euphemisms for vagina?”

Oh look, it was d) - all of the above. 

Without turning around Jane felt compelled to ask Darcy the question she was obviously fishing for. 

“I don’t know, Darcy, why are there no good sexy euphemisms for vagina?”

She heard Darcy sit bolt upright from where she’d been lying prone on one of the common room’s sofas. “I know, right! So I'm reading this fic and I'm a thousand words in and lady A is about to go to town on lady B's bits and suddenly it’s all ‘Ooh, let me lick your pussy, yeah baby!’. I mean, ugh. Pussy. So juvenile.”

Jane gave in, turning off the stove and facing Darcy from across the kitchen. “I thought pussy was meant to be sexy, though?”

Darcy shrugged. “I’ve never liked it, personally. I’d feel embarrassed calling Mr Tiddles a pussy, let alone my vagina.”

“Vulva,” corrected Jane distractedly, “if we’re talking about non-penetrative sex.” Mr Tiddles was a very distinguished tuxedo cat that Darcy had rescued from an alleyway near the Tower over a year ago. She couldn’t imagine he would enjoy being called a vaginal euphemism, actually. Or was it the other way around? Was this a chicken and egg scenario?

“Yeah, yeah, Dr Scientist.”

Jane waved away the titles and went to the cupboard to fetch some mugs. 

“What would you prefer someone call it, then? In the heat of the moment.”

Darcy pursed her lips, tapping them gently with one red-tipped fingernail. “I’ve never really thought about it too hard,” she mused. “I guess snatch isn’t too bad. Better than some things it’s been called.”

“Oh?” asked Jane, intrigued despite herself.

“Yeah,” Darcy grimaced. “When we were in London Ian kept calling it my minge. Said it made him feel like a local.”

“Ew,” said Jane. “Minge. Miiinge. That sounds like you’ve caught something bad.”

“Is everything okay, ladies?” came a smooth voice from the vicinity of the elevator. Jane and Darcy both snapped their heads to where two very put together women were entering the room. “We have excellent medical facilities downstairs if there’s something, ah, _going on_ down there that needs to be looked at.”

 _Oh good,_ thought Jane. _What every 3am conversation about the correct word for vag needs is the CEO of Stark Tech and the Black Widow._ She went to a cupboard on the other side of the kitchen and grabbed a large bottle of bourbon. It felt like one of those nights.

“Hi Pepper, hi Natasha,” Darcy bounced out of her seat. “Would you like some hot chocolate? And how do you feel about the word vajayjay?”

Natasha treated Darcy to the classic Black Widow single raised eyebrow as she gracefully took a seat at the kitchen island. “Uninspired,” she answered after a moment.

Pepper snort-giggled and sat down next to her. “Better than lady garden,” she put forward. “Tony tried that on me in the middle of some afternoon fun and I laughed so hard we, ah, forcibly disengaged. Let’s just say that was the end of that encounter.” 

Jane, who was in the middle of getting two more mugs, found herself caught in an unwanted memory. “Thor called mine a ‘wondrous specimen of valourous ladyhood that the sages shall sing to throughout the ages’, once.”

There was a momentary silence in the kitchen as the ladies let that sink in.

“It’s a step up from mewling quim, I suppose,” Natasha offered. They all made the same face. 

“I can’t believe Loki actually said that to you,” said Pepper. “I would have thought a Norse God who was known to actually change genitalia on occasion would come up with a better insult. It’s not like vaginas are fragile.”

“Vulvas,” said Jane, again. Pepper nodded in acknowledgement. Jane passed out the heavily doctored hot chocolate and they sipped in quiet contentment.

Darcy was the first to break the silence. “How about bearded clam?”

Luckily Natasha was sitting opposite Jane, and so was able to use her honed ninja-spy skills to duck out of the way of her spit-take. “Bearded what?” she wheezed, hitting her fist against her chest. “Sorry, Natasha.”

Darcy waved her phone at her. “Clam, Jane. I thought you might like that better than fur burger. Or meat sleeve.” 

Pepper was starting to look a little disgusted as she grabbed some kitchen paper to mop up the mess on the countertop. Natasha was just looking murderous, but that wasn’t anything new. 

“Hey, that’s not even the worst I’ve found,” Darcy tried to defend her google search. 

“Gash,” said Jane.

“Hole,” replied Darcy.

“ки́ска” Natasha added.

“Vertical smile,” said Pepper, and they all gagged a little, though Darcy was looking at Pepper with even more hero-worship than usual after that surprising nugget.

“I’m not sure what’s worse,” said Jane, after they’d all taken a moment to gather themselves. “The disgusting ones or the cutesy ones. Like love tunnel, or fru fru.”

Darcy started laughing, and it took her a full minute to calm down enough to tell the other ladies – “Sweet panty hamster, I swear to god.” And that was it, they were all gone. “And he was so serious about it!” Darcy squeezed out through the laughter and they were off again. “Luckily it was before we’d even left the bar, and let me tell you, complete ladyboner killer.”

“I once had a great aunt call hers a front butt, in all seriousness,” Pepper told them. Natasha looked like she didn’t believe a word of it. “It was at a Church meeting, she was surrounded by all these little old ladies in hats who agreed with her.”

“Americans,” said Natasha, wearily. “So many options yet she chose the one that pretends it doesn’t exist. Stupid.”

“Don’t you speak a load of different languages though?” asked Jane, curiously. “I imagine there’s other countries that have stupid words for it.”

“Ooh, yeah!” gushed Darcy, taking a swig of hot chocolate and then propping her chin on her fists, trying out her puppy dog eyes on the international spy. “What’s your favourite?” 

Natasha blinked at her enthusiasm. “This is the most on the spot I’ve felt since Budapest.”

Jane was feeling the buzz of not enough sleep and a little too much cheap bourbon on an empty stomach, so she decided to join in with the chin lean and batting of eyelashes. It was a little more surprising when Pepper joined in too. “Pleeeease?” they managed to whine in unison. Natasha looked nonplussed, as much as it was possible for her, anyway. She sipped on her drink, letting the moment draw itself out. Darcy was beside herself, squirming in anticipation.

“Araña, from Panama,” she decided, eventually. “Means ‘spider’”.

There was a general booing from her audience. “What was that for?” she asked, put out. 

“You can’t choose your own name!” Darcy declared. “It’s cheating!”

Jane poured more bourbon into the mostly empty mugs.

Pepper leant forward and whispered, “Tony tried to use Koneko-chan when we in Tokyo last year.” 

“It’s a bit of a mouthful,” said Natasha. Darcy and Jane looked at each other and shouted, “That’s what she said!” and high-fived around the table. 

After another round of drinks Natasha caved. “Fine, I guess my favourite would be Schwöbli. It’s Swiss for a sweet bun that looks like a pair of buttcheeks. Not particularly correct in the description but the buns are quite tasty.”

“Mine’s cunt,” says Darcy. 

The other ladies can’t help but gasp.

“Not the way we say it, obviously! But I did an overnight stay in Glasgow when we were in the UK, before the Dark Elves destroyed London, and they use it completely differently there, it’s like a form of aggressive affection. Some woman in a bar called me one after I punched a guy for trying to grab the girls.” She waved her mug at her chest. “She bought me free drinks for the night and called me a ‘glorious cunt’ when she hugged me goodbye.” She sighed. “She was so hot. If I hadn’t been with Ian I would have totally hit that. Stupid Ian.”

“Stupid Ian!” Jane echoes and they all toast. There’s a ding from the lift.

“So it comes down to pussy or cunt, I guess,” declares Darcy. “Oh, hey Sam!” They all turn to see a stunned looking Falcon standing in the elevator with the door open. “Sam, do you prefer pussy or cunt?”

Sam shakes his head hard, once. “I need better friends,” he tells them, and frantically pushes the button to close the doors. 

“Well that was strange,” said Pepper, once he’d gone. 

Natasha shrugged. “Some people get weird about vaginas.”

“Vulvas!” chorus Jane and Darcy, and they all snigger. 

“Anyone for more bourbon?”

**Author's Note:**

> Overheard the next day:
> 
> “Lots of places use ‘box’, actually.”  
> “Box! That’s another one I don’t understand, am I meant to be keeping something in there?”  
> “Maybe it’s about what they want you to keep in there.”  
> “Well if they want it kept they’d have to detach it and I can’t see that happening, short of vagina dentata.”  
> “…. Your mind is a scary place.”


End file.
